


because we never practiced with the escape chamber

by dirty_diana



Category: Killjoys (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Established Relationship, F/M, Het Mpreg, Protectiveness, Team Dynamics, Teamwork, not any weirder than in canon come to think of it, pregnant through weird science
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-01
Updated: 2019-05-01
Packaged: 2020-01-12 06:16:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18440735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dirty_diana/pseuds/dirty_diana
Summary: Zeph cut him off. "John thinks you're pregnant."D'avin began to laugh. His sides shook with the sound, as the rush of amusement swallowed him up. He laughed until there were tears at the corners of his eyes, and wiped them away with the back of his hand. "Johnny, come on. That's funny as shit, but you didn't have to drag Zeph into it."





	because we never practiced with the escape chamber

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> beta'd by salazarastark and lilacsigil, thanks for the save! Assumes that S3 basically happened, but without the Hullen being able to successfully implant the Aneela/D'avin baby in Delle Seyah. Therefore S4 also basically happened, but without Jaq, and without the Lady sticking around Westerley when she escaped.

D'avin had the heebie-jeebies.

"Are you sure this is the right place?" he asked Dutch for the second time. He turned in circles where he stood, sweeping his flashlight into the dusky, unlit corners of the space station's control room, illuminating only dust and trailing spiderwebs.

Dutch sighed without responding. D'avin could easily read the implied exasperation in her silence.

"I'm just saying," D'avin continued, shrugging. "Doesn't look like anyone has actually been on this floating junk heap in years. I think we got bad intel on this one, Dutch."

"You're wrong." Dutch shook her head as she pulled off her vacuum helmet, shaking her head as her long hair came loose. Her features were underlined with shadows in the dark control room. "Someone's been around. Life support's running strong. Right, Johnny?"

Johnny's answer came through loud and clear over D'avin's commpiece. "Yep. Lucy says oxygen, grav, pressurisation are all within recommended levels."

D'avin frowned at her. "How did you know--"

Dutch gestured with her chin to the darkened corner behind D'avin, pointing with her flashlight in the same direction. D'avin opened his mouth to ask a question, and then scrambled a few steps backwards in surprise. A small shadow flew into the beam and then away, its wings beating loudly into the quiet. "Ah! Was that a fucking bat? Like in Johnny's comic book where a crazy woman dresses up as bat and flies around with a little jetpack, kicking people in the head?" 

Dutch looked at him, her head tilting dubiously, as if she was seriously reconsidering having him on the team. "Flying rodents mean life support," she said.

"Her name is Battina," Johnny added, over the comms, "and she could kick you in the head."

D'avin scowled. "Please. I think I could take anyone who thinks that pointy eared headdress is intimidating."

"That's cause you're a--"

"Boys!" Dutch broke in. "Let's not use up all this lovely oxygen up on arguing." Dutch brought her palm flatly down on the segment of the console panel in front of her. D'avin watched as the lights lit up in an unordered sequence, blinking as they woke. Dutch pulled out the small card that Johnny had given her, and shoved it into the first available slot.

"Should be connecting, Johnny. Try to hit the lights, and let us know if you and Lucy find anything interesting." Dutch turned toward the control room door, beckoning D'avin over her shoulder. "Come on, let's go find out if anyone or anything is home."

*

"I don't think anyone is home," D'avin complained, slinking through the station corridors after Dutch with his rifle on his shoulder. The station was still draped in darkness. D'avin stepped carefully, his light sweeping for threats every few feet as he moved.

Dutch didn't respond.

"Boy," Johnny said, "you sure are whiny today. Did you skip breakfast?"

D'avin frowned in reaction, thinking. He had, actually. He'd been eating irregularly all week, despite his usual military-learned habit of eating his meals at assigned times on the clock. "I don't see what that has to do with anything."

"I'm just saying you sound like your sugar's low. Or like your pants are too tight."

Dutch stopped abruptly in front of him. D'avin followed suit. The hallway had come to an end, diverting at two right angles. 

"Split up?" Dutch asked him. "D'av?"

D'avin blinked. "Johnny? Still working on those lights?"

"Yeah, Lucy's in the control system. It'll just be a sec. Why?"

"Just seems like it's getting even darker in here." D'avin stumbled, and had to take one hand off his gear to steady himself against the bulkhead. "Whoa."

"Dutch?" Johnny asked Dutch. "Everything okay down there?"

"I think maybe you should take another atmospheric reading, Johnny. Check for toxins."

Despite being right beside him, Dutch sounded distant to D'avin's ears, as if she were trapped behind glass and fading. Now Johnny was speaking to him, but D'avin couldn't make out any words over the ringing in his head. "Guys? I think I'm going to pass--"

The world turned black and silent.

*

D'avin woke up on the cargo bay floor, with the cool metal of a grate pressed against his cheek.

"Ugh." He raised his head. His mouth was dry. "What happened?"

He could see Johnny's black boots moving towards him, then his brother was on one side with a tight hand around his arm, helping him up. D'avin recognised Dutch's lighter touch on his back as his team helped him up and towards a flat metal gurney. D'avin sank onto it, his head still swimming. 

"What happened? You swooned like a comic book princess mid-mission and Dutch had to carry your ass all the way back here." Johnny grinned, his face pink with humour. 

D'avin looked over at Dutch. "You carried me," he said, a flat question.

"I rolled you onto a cargo trolley," Dutch clarified.

"And then dumped you onto Lucy's floor like a sack of garbage. It was awesome." Johnny's bright smile faded. "I do want to know why you fainted though."

D'avin rubbed the back of his head, wincing at a sore spot. "What's the mystery? Clearly Lucy was wrong about life support."

"Take that back!" Johnny demanded. 

At the same time, the ship complained, "Was not."

"Were too." D'avin scowled at the ceiling.

"Lucy wasn't wrong," Dutch said softly. Her clear eyes met his. "I was breathing the same air and I was fine."

"Yeah, and she'll be fine when she goes back in," Johnny added.

D'avin reached for the rifle that had been slung across his chest and frowned, finding it missing. He moved to rise from the gurney. "Great. Let's go."

Gently, two pairs of hands stopped him in his tracks.

"You are staying here. When Johnny gets back, he's going to run a full checkup," Dutch said, her voice soft but firm.

"Whoa, slow down. When Johnny gets back from where?"

"Uh, the station, genius. In case you didn't notice, we're still in the middle of a mission. Since you showboated your way on the injured list with that swan dive, I'm going in with Dutch, but don't worry. My D'avin impression is going to be great." Johnny cocked his fingers into air guns.

"No way. You're the one who drew up the mission plan. You're in the cockpit, I'm with Dutch."

Johnny rolled his eyes. "D'av, it'll be fine. Lucy's got full eyes and ears inside the station. We flew all the way out to the middle of nowhere, so we might as well get what we came for. Meanwhile, you can look forward to all the tests you and I are going to do when I get back."

D'avin groaned. "I hate tests."

"I remember. Don't worry. You and I are going to figure out what's wrong with you."

"There's not a damned thing wrong with me," D'avin insisted, his irritation building. "You and Dutch don't have to ground me from the mission."

There was a momentary silence in the cargo bay. D'avin could feel Dutch and Johnny doing their silent telepathy thing as they looked at each other.

Dutch tapped a spot on the floor with the toe of her boot. "Fine. If you can stand here for thirty seconds without any help whatsoever, you can come along." She sounded as if she were speaking to a child.

Air whistled out of D'avin's mouth in an annoyed pop. "I can stand."

"Prove it," Dutch answered, her eyebrows raising in a cocky dare.

D'avin took a deep breath before he rose, then took a shaky step forward. His knees wobbled, and D'avin sighed, sinking back down. "Fine," he said, knowing his frustration made him sound petulant. "But if you get into trouble, I'm coming in."

Dutch batted her eyelashes teasingly, flashing him an amused smile. "My hero."

*

Dutch and Johnny left, but D'avin could still hear them chattering in his ear as they explored the station. He rolled over onto his side as the familiar back and forth banter washed over him. He fought back a yawn as he listened to their progress.

He hadn't meant to fall asleep.

"Rise and shine."

He wasn't sure how much time had passed when he awoke with a start, heart racing. Something metallic had landed on the gurney next to his head, clanging loudly and jolting him out of his nap.

He blinked his eyes open. Dutch was standing over him, wearing a wide grin.

D'avin took a look at the object she'd tossed down beside him. He couldn't make out much besides an elliptical shape and black casing, thick and heavy from the sound it had made. "That it?"

Dutch shrugged. "Has to be. No human guards, but security measures up the wazoo. Johnny almost got himself blown up trying to pry it loose."

"Johnny almost what?" D'avin demanded. He rubbed a sore spot on the back of his neck, looking around for his brother.

"That was so much fun!" Johnny shouted gleefully, as he sprinted past them on the way to the cockpit. "Lucy, party's over, let's skedaddle."

"Skedaddling," Lucy said.

*

Arguing his way out from under Johnny's microscope wasn't happening. D'avin submitted later to the physical examination with a resigned sigh.

"If this is all because you skipped breakfast, I am never going to stop making fun of you," Johnny said as he tapped at his machines.

D'avin lay on his back with one arm bent underneath his head, looking up at the ceiling in Johnny's lab space. "That just sounds like my regular life."

"Hey, what are little brothers for?" Johnny paused with a sensor pad in his fingers, frozen in motion an inch away from D'avin's bare chest. "You okay?"

D'avin took a deep breath, realising he was shivering. "Your wires are cold," he said. 

Johnny nodded, and D'avin fell silent. 

The readout next to his head beeped, and Johnny looked over at it, asking Lucy a question. D'avin tuned out the spaceship's question. He tried to think of something grounding to focus on, the way the army doctor had taught him. His mind was blank, except for the background noises of Johnny's work.

"I don't really like feeling like a lab rat," he admitted after a little while. The confession seemed to hang in the cold air.

"Yeah. I guess you wouldn't," Johnny agreed.

"Yeah," D'avin said.

"Although if anyone's going to be worried here, I feel like it should be me, since the last time you were subjected to weird and unethical science, I'm actually the one who got stabbed."

D'avin burst into laughter. It was a pleasantly warm distraction. "Shut up."

"In the gut, remember," Johnny said, but he was smiling.

*

The next stop was back to the quad, leaving D'avin with a day and a half with nothing to do. He awoke the next day the same as he had every day that week, with his stomach roiling.

He had, D'avin reminded himself, just narrowly missed losing Dutch to the quest to kill Aneela. Dutch had gone into the green, and she wouldn't, or couldn't, say what had happened. Aneela hadn't returned, something for which Dutch seemed unexpectedly regretful. The trip in to find her had gone even worse than the first.

Now they were fighting something that didn't even have a name. The Hullen war was a messy sinkhole of shit, but D'avin definitely preferred having an enemy that could be punched in the face.

*

Dutch paused in the doorway to the galley, eyeing D'avin in confusion. "What are you doing?"

D'avin looked up from the mess he was making on the counter. "Making dinner. Want some?"

"No, thanks." Dutch stepped closer. She reached over him to wrap her fingers around the neck of a hokk bottle and pull it towards her. D'avin could feel her breath against his neck before she pulled away. "Think I'll drink my meal instead."

D'avin nodded. He continued chopping, his knife banging rhythmically on the counter in the silence. The yvak peppers released their heat as he sliced them open. D'avin blinked away the stinging sensation.

"I have to say, I didn't know this was a thing you did. Cooking."

D'avin rolled his eyes. "I'm making a sandwich, Dutch. It's not really the height of gastronomy."

Dutch hummed wordlessly at that. D'avin finished chopping, and turned to flip the toasting slices of thick Leithian bread over on the small countertop grill.

"Besides," D'avin said, as the thought occurred to him. "Didn't cooking come up in princess harem school, or whatever?"

Dutch took a sip from her bottle, then wiped her mouth. "Maybe the regular course load. Most of what Khlyen taught on the subject involved mixing poisons."

"Good old Khlyen."

"Yep."

The room was silent again. D'avin slid his sandwich on a plate and moved to sit on the couch. Dutch followed him, her bottle still in hand.

"Johnny says you haven't been eating," she said.

"Tell John he should mind his own business," D'avin said with his mouth full. The peppers tingled in his mouth, but they didn't quite fulfil the sudden longing he'd been having for the spicy, fermented flavours he'd grown up with.

"Oh, sure," Dutch said, tucking her feet onto the couch and resting her head on D'avin's shoulder. Her long hair spilled across his biceps, tickling his skin. "That sounds not at all like a waste of breath. But we're going to need you to fight this memory wiping bitch, so. Don't forget to take care of yourself."

D'avin glanced down at her, and tactically decided not to mention the bottle of hokk that rested in Dutch's lap. "Says the woman who's trying to nobly sacrifice herself every time I turn around."

"Yeah, well." Dutch smiled crookedly into his shoulder. "How about someone else does the dramatic bits from now on? I'm on hiatus."

D'avin sighed, an overdramatic huff that made Dutch laugh. "Hiatus. Is that like a vacation? When's the last time we had one of those?"

"Oh, year before never, I think."

"Hmmn. Maybe when this is all over, we should take one. Just you, me, and a planet with lots of sunshine and no public decency laws."

Dutch chuckled again, her whole body vibrating slightly against his. "I'm in. I'll even buy the first round."

Dutch's flippant tone told him that she didn't think it would be happening, not any time soon. He knew she was right.

*

At the end of the bottle, D'avin walked Dutch to her bed. She was half-asleep, swaying drunkenly in his arms. He rolled her gently onto the left side of the bed, then kicked off his shoes and shirt before getting in after her. He curled up against her, resting his hand over the swell of her hip.

"G'night," he said to the bare skin of the back of her shoulder. Dutch was already fast asleep, her chest rising and falling with gentle snoring.

*

D'avin woke first. His stomach was queasy. He took a shower on the strongest, hottest settings Lucy would allow before wandering to the galley in search of something to eat that wouldn't make him heave.

There was laughter coming from the cargo bay. D'avin walked towards the noise, frowning.

"Zeph?"

"D'avin!" Zephyr was standing on the threshold of the open gangplank, wearing casual clothes in place of her dark RAC uniform. She had a science nerd kit slung over one arm. Johnny had been speaking, casually leaning forward into her space as he told a joke. Zeph's face was scrunched up into an uncertain expression, the same familiar face when she thought one of the Jaqobis brothers was acting inexplicably.

D'avin had kind of missed it. He smiled at her. "Hey, Zeph. It's good to see you."

"Yeah," Zeph said, with a noncommittal shrug. She tapped the black case under her arm. "You ready to get started? I even warmed up my gel for you."

"What?" D'avin asked.

Johnny groaned. "Zeph, come on, you have to at least make small talk first. You can't just jump straight to the lube part."

"But that's why you called me," Zeph said, glancing between the two brothers. Her perplexed stare lingered on D'avin, making him twitch, before moving back to Johnny. "Oh, I see. You haven't told him."

"Hells, told me what?" 

"Well, D'av, it's kind of a long--"

Zeph cut him off. "John thinks you're pregnant."

D'avin began to laugh. His sides shook with the sound, as the rush of amusement swallowed him up. He laughed until there were tears at the corners of his eyes, and wiped them away with the back of his hand. "Johnny, come on. That's funny as shit, but you didn't have to drag Zeph into it."

Johnny looked at him, shrugging silently.

D'avin's heart began to pound with a nervous rush he usually only felt in the field. "You're not serious. That's literally impossible."

"Duh. That's the reason I'm here." Zeph rolled her eyes. The off-hand dismissive gesture was unexpectedly comforting. "We're going to take some more bloodwork and a more detailed scan. Figure out what it is that Johnny thinks he saw." She put a long, accusing stress on her words.

Johnny threw up his hands in a defensive motion, as if warding off the dirty look that Zeph had aimed his way. "I will have never been happier to have my work corrected, believe me. You guys can throw a Johnny Was Wrong party. With cake. And a banner that says, congratulations, you're one hundred percent not an uncle."

D'avin's stomach gurgled in protest. D'avin made an unhappy face at his brother, feeling himself turning a little green with sickness. "Please don't say cake."

*

Zeph drew a handful of blood samples with a light touch, then directed D'avin to lie down on one of Johnny's tables.

"If I didn't know better," D'avin said, "I would think there's a reason you're always trying to get me undressed."

Zeph wrinkled her nose. "Good thing you do know better."

"Kinda surprised you're here though. I thought you and Dutch weren't really talking. Right now."

"Okay, we're not," Zeph said firmly. "But I didn't come back for her."

"Aw, Zeph," D'avin sing-songed. "Are we friends?"

"No, I hate you. Shut up and let me focus."

D'avin grinned, trying to ignore the rough, dragging sensation of Zeph's scanning instrument as she pushed it purposefully across the exposed skin of his abdomen. The movement stopped abruptly. The weight of Zeph's hand rested just to the right of D'avin's belly button, then stuttered in circles over the same spot.

D'avin raised his head slightly off the table, bringing Zeph's face into view. "Is something wrong?" he asked her.

"Uh. Depends." Zeph frowned at him. "Have you been shot recently?"

"Define recently."

Zeph didn't smile. There were small lines of concentration beginning to appear on her forehead. "Would the bullet still be in there?"

"What? No. There's a bullet in my stomach? Right now?" D'avin had begun to rise, but Zeph scowled at him, poking him softly on his bare arm. D'avin stilled.

"There's something in there. It looks kinda like the property tags we used to use on the farm. But you're not cattle, so." Zeph eyed him as if she was waiting for confirmation.

"No," D'avin agreed. "Definitely not cattle."

"Well, someone's tagged you with some kind of foreign fragment. It could be what's making you sick." Zeph's scanner moved, then froze again. "Huh, and there's something else here. Bigger."

D'avin's heart stuttered nervously. "Don't say baby."

"Well, I don't want to say baby!" Zeph's voice rose defensively. "But I can see why Johnny thought it looked like one. It's certainly biological."

D'avin pressed his lips together. He was getting used to the small rushes of adrenaline worry that vibrated through him each time Zeph spoke. "Like cancer?"

Zeph paused, peering at him. "Do you want it to be cancer?"

"Are you going to tell me what it is, or not?" D'avin could hear the growling, impatient undertone to his own voice.

Zeph was silent. D'avin could make out the series of beeping sounds as she switched the settings on her display. The room filled with a wave of unending noise, quick and repeating like a tiny hollow drum.

D'avin's eyes squinted nearly closed as he listened to the rhythmic, alien sound. "What is that?"

"That is a heartbeat. Which means that," Zeph tapped her screen, just out of D'avin's sight, "is a gestational sac, so, uh. Congratulations. There's definitely a fetus in there."

*

They assembled in the galley a few minutes later. D'avin stood awkwardly in the centre of the room, staring into the depths of a mug of hot, unsweetened tea. Hokk was probably off the menu for another few months, he thought.

"So, uh. Exactly how pregnant am I?" he asked.

Zeph shrugged. She was scowling at him, trying hard to avoid eye contact with Dutch. In the opposite corner of the room, arms crossed over her chest, Dutch was doing the same. "Assuming normal development of a human fetus, I'd put it at about twelve weeks."

"Are we sure it's human?" Dutch asked pointedly.

"As opposed to what? Hullen?"

Dutch's tone grew sharp at D'avin's words. "Or anything. We don't know anything about it. We don't know how it got in you, or what it wants--"

He clenched his fists around the hot mug, bearing the heat that pricked his skin, just on the edge of pain. "It doesn't want anything, Dutch. It can't, it's a helpless fucking baby!"

Abruptly Zeph's voice cut into the rising argument. "D'avin, have you had surgery recently?"

"To remove the bullet I don't remember getting shot with?" he responded with a cynical sideways look.

Doggedly, Zeph shook her head. "No, to put something in. Someone must have put that sac in you. And that fragment I spotted? Identification tag. Some of the high-end shops use them to sign their work."

"What kind of shops are we talking?" D'avin asked with a frown.

"Biowork shops. They're all over if you know where to look." It was the first time Johnny had spoken since Zeph had broken the news. He uncurled himself from where he'd been leaning against the bulkhead. His focused, concerned gaze never moved from D'avin's face. 

"Aren't those illegal?" D'avin asked the room.

"Depends. A lot of them are mostly practising regular medicine. Fertility treatments and stuff, just with a few extra services tacked on," Johnny said.

"Like gene hacking." Zeph's mouth turned down in plain disgust.

"Or implanting a fetus in someone against their will?" Dutch asked. Johnny shrugged, and Dutch's expression darkened to a thundercloud. "Well, figure out which shop the tag was implanted by. I'd like to have a chat with them." 

"On it," Zeph said, still carefully keeping her eyes averted from Dutch's direction.

D'avin spoke up. "One problem. I've never been to any of these shops. In my life."

Johnny took a small, cautious pause. "Don't go getting all sensitive about this? But you don't always remember everything."

"Yeah, I guess it wouldn't be my first mysterious brainwashing."

"Or even your second," Johnny said with a shrug. "We'll figure it out. Right, Zeph?"

"Right. I've got an amniotic sample, so I should be able to tell you more about the fetus' origin soon. Species, at least."

Johnny spoke again, glancing silently at D'avin before he did so. "When will you know the best way to go about taking it out?" 

D'avin forgot the cup in his hand, almost dropping it onto the ground. He recovered swiftly, placing the half-full mug on the counter before turning to glare at Johnny. "Whoa. When did I say I wanted to do that?"

"D'av, you're passing out. You're not eating. You can't let it keep hurting you."

"Those are pretty normal pregnancy symptoms," Zeph piped up, her voice trailing off as all the eyes in the room swiveled towards her. "For whatever that's worth."

D'avin looked down, and found he was defensively crossing his hands over his stomach. He struggled to loosen his posture, and dropped his arms to his sides. "It's a baby."

"It's a parasite," Dutch said, raising her voice a fraction.

"We don't know that. We don't know anything about it. Zeph is still running tests. Right, Zeph?" D'avin glanced in Zeph's direction.

"Whoa, hey." Zeph took a step backwards, shaking her head. "I'm just here to do the science. Leave me out of the bioethical debate, please."

"All I'm saying, D'av, is that if science got you into this mess, then science can get you out." Johnny's voice was settled at a low, slow cadence as if he was talking to a frightened animal. It kind of made D'avin want to hit him a little.

"No offense, Johnny, but you can shove your science right now. Nothing's happening until we know more."

Dutch's mouth set in a thin, tight line that barely concealed her frustration. "Fine. But you're grounded between now and then."

D'avin blinked. "Whoa. Slow down."

"No. No debate. I am not taking you and this goddamned mystery hitchhiker out on missions, D'av, when we have no idea what other effects it could be having on you." Pippin's name hung unspoken in the silence for a moment. Dutch turned and marched out of the room with no further words.

"I'm going to take this stuff back to my lab. It was good to see you guys. I guess." Zeph shrugged, gave a small wave, and left.

Johnny and D'avin stood alone in silence. Johnny looked over at his brother.

"Well? How are you feeling?"

"I think I'm going to need more than five minutes to figure that out," D'avin admitted to his brother.

"Yeah, I get that. I'm just not sure how much time you're going to get. Not while Dutch is on this quest to kill the Lady."

D'avin mimed a shudder, the way he always did when the Lady's name came up. "Who, by the way, we don't know for sure can actually die."

Johnny nodded. "No one is getting in Dutch's way right now. Not even you, D'av. No even you."

*

He left Dutch to herself for the rest of the day. He knew her well enough to know that after every fight, she needed time to stew. Right now, D'avin found he didn't mind the quiet. He went down to an open field planetside, carrying only his gun and a target sphere, and chased it around the open, long field until he was doubled over and panting from exertion, lungs sucking hard on the fresh, humid air.

Johnny was in his lab when D'avin returned, his tools buried deep in the steel carcass of the object they'd retrieved from the space station.

D'avin dropped himself into a sitting position on the nearest crate. Johnny looked up, noticing the sweat that streaked across D'avin's black shirt.

"You okay?" Johnny asked.

"Yeah." He popped the lid off a canteen of water and drank. The cool water seemed to settle his stomach, and D'avin frowned down at his still-flat belly. "You ever miss iv'slan?"

Johnny looked sideways at him. "No, and neither do you. You hate iv'slan. You said it was sticky and weird and Dad practically had to tie you to the table to get you to finish your dinner whenever Mom made it."

"Yeah, well. Suddenly I kind of wish I could get some."

"Sounds like the baby wants iv'slan."

D'avin glanced down at his belly once more. "You think so?"

Johnny didn't say anything to that. D'avin watched his brother work for a moment. "You making any progress with that?" 

"The intel was right, the scientists in that station were doing work on memories. Using the brain as hard drive. Creating backups. Partitioning."

"I don't know what any of that means," D'avin said.

"It means we might have found a method of defense." Johnny sighed. "It also means it's meant to interface with an actual human brain."

"You mean, you're going to have to call Zeph again."

"I'm going to have to call Zeph," Johnny agreed, making a face. 

"Won't be so bad. You guys make a pretty good team."

Johnny shrugged without ceding the point. "At least she looks like she's doing okay."

"Yeah. She does."

"It's just tough. Losing someone. Takes a while." Johnny's voice dipped softly, his eyes going distant.

D'avin fell silent. He never knew quite what to do, when the ghost of Pawter crossed over Johnny like that. "Yeah," D'avin said again, after a moment.

*

Dutch was the first to break the detente. She was sitting on D'avin's bed when he walked through his bedroom door, already pulling off his shirt to retire for the night.

Her legs were crossed casually, stretched out across the middle of the bed. She glanced up from whatever she'd been reading on the PDD balanced in her palm, but didn't say anything. D'avin continued with what he'd been doing, shucking off his boots and placing them neatly under the bed. He dropped his shirt into a square hamper. D'avin looked up to find Dutch still staring steadily at him. The left side of her mouth quirked up into a smile.

D'avin sighed, looking back at her. "Don't do that."

"Do what?" Dutch asked, eyebrows lifted. She dropped the PDD and raised up on her knees, moving closer to him.

"Look at me as if I'm not about to get, you know." D'avin raised his arms around his waist, puffing air into his cheeks. "Fat. Depending on what Zeph's tests say," he amended hastily.

Dutch inclined her head at him thoughtfully. She was quiet for a moment, considering her words. "We know the Hullen have been working with genetic abilities. Yours, and Aneela's. This is probably their handiwork. They made this thing--"

"And put it out of reach, in the possession of their greatest enemy?" D'avin asked, interrupting.

A small smile crossed Dutch's face. "Well, don't get ahead of yourself. You're not their greatest enemy, I am."

He grinned at her. "Yeah, you can have that crown."

"That's very generous of you." Dutch tilted her face upwards as D'avin leaned over to drop a brief kiss on her lips. 

"Mnhm."

"Maybe I'll like you when you're fat." Dutch's hands fell to cradle D'avin's waist.

"We'll see." D'avin kissed her again.

"We're still going to have to talk about this."

"We'll see," D'avin said again. Dutch kissed him first this time, light arms pulling him down with her onto the bed.

*

"There you are." A communication holo was broadcasting in the centre of the room. The shimmery image of Zeph waved her hands. "We've been waiting for you."

"It's been a rough morning," D'avin answered testily. Dutch and Johnny were already in the room. From their close stance and the worried, knowing glance they gave each other D'avin could guess that the what-do-we-do-about-D'av summit had been long underway. "Nurturing brand new life here, remember?"

Zeph perked up at that, her shaggy hair bouncing as her head nodded up and down. "Oh, more news. I've developed a shot for that. Should help with any nausea or tiredness. There's also a second shot with standard prenatal care dosages. But we're kind of in brand new territory here, so I can adjust the numbers if it looks like the baby needs it."

"Baby," D'avin repeated. For all that they'd already started using the word, it still didn't feel natural. "It's human?"

"Yep. One hundred percent."

"And you're planning to give it vitamins," Dutch said, flat and not quite a question.

Zeph looked back and forth between them, before nodding as she acknowledged Dutch. "Well, yeah. That's what D'avin wants, right? Prenatal care and a birthing plan?"

"Yes," D'avin said. He crossed his arms over his chest, glaring defiantly at each of them in turn.

Johnny screwed up his face in mock disgust. "Ugh. Please don't say birthing plan."

Where the previous day Dutch had been angry, today she simply looked overwhelmed. It was something she was usually better at hiding. A pang of concern crossed D'avin's chest.

"We need to look at other options, D'avin. We're in a war. What exactly are you planning to do with a baby?"

"Teach it sports?" D'avin suggested.

Dutch blew out a frustrated breath, glaring at him.

"Kidding," D'avin said quickly. "We don't have to cross that bridge right now, do we? Zeph said the baby's 100% human, and people adopt those all the time. Buy them, even."

Dutch choked out a laugh. "We're not selling a baby."

"Sure," Johnny said, jumping into the conversation with his ever-optimistic tone. It was a gesture of support that D'avin hadn't expected. "But we could. Zeph, you ran the genetics, right? How much is D'av's baby going to be worth on the open market?"

Zeph hesitated. "I did run the genetics."

"And?" Johnny prompted. "It's going to be tall, wide shoulders, dumb as a rock?"

"Yeah, all that. It's D'avin's. And, uh." Zeph pressed a button. The holo display was suddenly overlaid with the image of a second face. 

"Handsome guy," D'avin said to his own image.

Zeph fiddled with her controls again, and another face appeared in the hologram side by side with his own.

Dutch hissed in irritation. "I knew it. Aneela's the mother? I knew the Hullen were going to be involved."

"But Aneela's missing," Johnny pointed out. "We think this is what she's been up to?"

Zeph shook her head, craning her neck as if to see the intangible display from their point of view. "Wait. Did the computer pull the wrong photo? Dutch, that's you. You're the mother."

The room fell into a hush of stunned silence.

"Wow," Johnny said finally.

Zeph shrugged. "That's what I said. But somebody had to be the mother. Biologically speaking."

"I've got more questions. Who did all this. And when. And why." Johnny paused, frowning. "Really, the main one is why."

"Oh, yeah! That reminds me. I've got a clear picture of the logo on the implanted identification tag. I'm going to send that over to Johnny, and he can get started finding a name and an address."

"Thanks, Zeph," D'avin said to her.

"When you visit them, ask what their usual pre-natal regimen is. I'm really working blind here. Right," she added, when no one responded. "I'm going to get back to my actual work now." The hologram blinked into nothing, and Zeph was gone.

"She's right," Johnny said finally. "We knew someone had to be the mother."

This time D'avin was the one to turn his back and leave the room, throat thick and closed with things he didn't know how to say.

*

D'avin made it to one hundred and seventy-two rage sit ups before Dutch disturbed him. She entered his room, knocking softly to announce her presence. D'avin slowed his exercises. He didn't say anything as she sat down on the floor beside him, just breathed his exertion into the quiet room. One hundred ninety-nine. Two hundred.

He released his position and sat up, facing her. His knees brushed against hers. Her face was a careful, expressionless mask staring back at him.

"Thought you might send Johnny in first," D'avin said.

"I considered it," Dutch admitted with a rueful smile. "He tried to volunteer. He's got a whole speech ready about how he supports you no matter what."

"He would."

"I don't have a lot of practice. At those kinds of speeches." 

Dutch's hands rested open in her lap. D'avin resisted the urge to reach for them, when he knew the contact wouldn't help him make out how she was feeling now. "When I said what I said, before? I didn't know the baby was yours."

Dutch stared back at him, her light eyes wide and intent. "And?"

"What do you mean, and? It changes things."

"Really, D'avin," she said, sounding slightly annoyed. Curious. "What does it change?"

"It just means that we're not really at the baby stage of this whole thing, yet." D'avin waved his hands between them, indicating their entire connection. Strong as planetary gravity since they'd met and yet still tenuous, some says. "It means you didn't ask for this."

"Neither did you."

D'avin shook off her gentle tone. "I just mean that maybe I should ask you. What you want to do."

"I appreciate that. But it's in you, isn't it? I think whatever happens next has to be up to you." She sounded sincere. D'avin let his fingers brush against hers. Dutch didn't pull away.

"Look. Honestly?"

Dutch's mouth curved into the ghost of a smile. "Lately you're always honest. It's aggravating."

"Well, honestly, anyone that tries to cut this baby out of me before it's done cooking is going to regret it." D'avin couldn't help the edge of steel that ran through his words.

Dutch shook her head. "No one here would do that to you."

"Turin?" D'avin asked. "Paranoid madness is kind of his whole thing."

"No one here," Dutch said firmly, with a gentle warning of danger in her voice that matched his own, "is going to let anyone do that to you. Ever."

"Okay."

"We still don't know that Lady isn't behind this somehow."

"Good," D'avin said.

Dutch raised her eyebrows at him. "Good?"

"Then we won't have to keep looking for her, will we? She's going to come to us." D'avin put one hand protectively over his stomach, without thinking. "Then we kick her ass."

"Sure. Consider it kicked."

He nodded . "Galaxy saved."

"Save the galaxy, get the guy," Dutch said.

"That part's not going to be a problem," D'avin assured her. He pressed his thumbs against her palm, rotating in gentle circles.

"Yeah? You think he'll be attracted to my big hero energy?" Dutch asked breezily.

D'avin chuckled, leaning forward and whispering his next words against her cheek. "Your hero energy gets me so hard."

"Ooh," Dutch said, her voice light and leering, "tell me more."

"Might be easier if I show you," D'avin said, wrapping his hands around hers once more and pulling her into his lap. Dutch moved easily into his embrace, graceful as she bent her legs to straddle his waist. D'avin tilted them both forward, pressing his lips against hers, tasting her salty-sweet mouth. His fingers pressed sharply into her hip bones, losing himself in the long, breathless space of the kiss as she clung to him.

Dutch sighed, leaning into the kiss. Suddenly her entire body froze in his hands, going still. He pulled his face away, scanning her expression for clues to his mistake. "Hey. I thought we were okay?"

"It's not you. I'm worried about your, er." D'avin could see the guarded hesitation as she debated her next word. "Condition." 

A surprised laugh burst from D'avin's mouth, his shoulders shaking as Dutch frowned down at him. "Dutch," he said finally, pulling deep breaths so he could speak, "I hate to break it to you, but you've been doing it with a pregnant guy for weeks now."

"Don't laugh," she said, though the lines of her mouth were easing into a smile. "We're not exactly into charted territory here. Did you ask Zeph about it? What did she say?"

"She, ah, asked me if you were likely to punch me in the stomach. During."

Dutch's eyelids fluttered closed in amusement. "Is that what Zeph thinks I do in bed?"

"I don't know,"D'avin said, making a face at the thought of further discussing Zeph's sex fantasies. "But she said pretty much anything else would be perfectly safe, so."

"Well, in that case." Dutch leaned back onto the bedroom floor, slowly pulling him on top of her. Her hips rolled suggestively, pushing against his groin and making him gasp. It was a reminder of the strength contained in her lithe body, of how powerful she was even lying beneath him. He pressed in to kiss her again. Her lips parted for the contact, wet and open. D'avin's hand slid up Dutch's thigh, pushing up the hem of her t-shirt, hands splayed over her skin, feeling her ribs rise and fall, her breath coming in shorter pants as he kissed her.

"We could--" he whispered, hand snaking up under her bra to roughly caress a nipple. She twined her legs with him, bucking against him. He lost track of his thoughts. "I mean. Fuck. There's a bed. Right there."

"No need," Dutch said, breathless and filthy. Her hips were working harder now. Her hands were tight on the back of his, holding him in place as they rubbed together. "I like it here."

D'avin laughed. He reached down between them, found there was already a wet spot at the front of her pants. He rubbed his thumb back and forth across the vee where her legs parted, listening to her moan softly against him. "I know how you like it."

"Big talk," she challenged.

D'avin pushed his other hand against the front of his trousers, pushing down the waist to free his dick from his pants. "You like that too," he murmured back. 

She laughed at him again, stopped thrusting just long enough to wriggle her pants down to her ankles, exposing her wet pussy to him. D'avin wrapped his arms around her waist, rolling them once over on the floor.

"Come sit on me," he invited her. Dutch wriggled, pushing her pants down the rest of the way, then moved lightening-quick to straddle his mouth. He arched up, parting the folds of her with his tongue, licking and tasting as she moaned against him.

He lost track of time. Would have eaten her out for hours if she'd asked him to. Dutch broke off, used her fingers to wipe the stickiness at his mouth, and rolled back to sit on her hips in a silent invitation.

D'avin's head was swimming with her, his heart racing too fast, his cock hard and desperately wanting. She always did this to him, made him crazy for every second of it. Dutch was soaking wet when he entered her, taking him easily all the way down. He gasped at the sensation, as he settled into a fast and bruisingly hard rhythm. Dutch gripped onto his hips, rode the rhythm against him. Then she was gasping, shaking, tightening around him as she flooded with wetness. He fucked her through it with a steady metre, until warmth unfurled from his gut, swallowed him down. He trembled, cursing incoherently under his breath as he found release inside her.

*

D'avin had been dreaming. Johnny's voice boomed out of Lucy's speakers, loud and chipper. Dutch started in D'avin's arms, pulling against the warm sheets, reaching for the loaded gun on her bedside table before she was even awake.

"Ladies and gentlemen! Meet me in the cockpit, because I've got breaking news."

Dutch blinked sleepily, She relaxed against D'avin's body, replacing the gun on the table. "Lucy? What time is it?"

"Ship's time is oh six thirty-seven," Lucy answered immediately. "Time on Leith is oh seven--"

"Thanks, Lucy," Dutch interrupted. She sighed, looking over at D'avin. "Guess we'd better get dressed."

Johnny was pacing the cockpit when they entered. D'avin was a step behind Dutch, still shrugging into his shirt. The stretching sky of Leith outside Lucy's viewport had been replaced with a black and endless starfield. Now that D'avin listened for it, he could hear the particular hum Lucy made as she flew.

Dutch frowned. "Johnny, where are we going?"

Johnny whistled, and a starmap appeared in Lucy's cockpit display. "I identified the biowork shop that handled D'avin's little situation. We've got the coordinates."

"And we're headed there now?" Dutch asked, glancing casually at the map.

"Yup. Figured you'd want to get started interrogating people. Or whatever." Johnny punched the air with an unsteady jab, making D'avin raise his eyebrows. 

"Johnny, when's the last time you slept?"

"Sleep is for the weak," Johnny replied, scoffing. He looked down at the dashboard, and picked up a mug that had been balanced there. He took a sip and then screwed up his features in disgust. "Ugh. Cold. Anyway. Zeph and I holo-conferenced most of the night. We're starting to get somewhere with that memory tech, you know. It's going to take a little time, but we think we should be able to build it into some defensive gear," Johnny mimed placing something on top of his head.

D'avin frowned in confusion. "A tiara?"

Johnny shrugged. "Oh! And Turin called. He's got strange reports coming in from a couple of sectors over. Alta system. He's sending Fancy Lee and a team to check it out."

"The Lady," Dutch growled. 

"It would be our first sighting in weeks," D'avin said. He glanced back at Johnny's map.

"Why aren't we headed there, then?" Dutch asked.

"Because it's an unconfirmed report? Because Turin already sent Fancy, and he's got strict orders not to engage unless necessary? Because if this idiot's going to have a baby, we're going to need some damned answers?" Johnny frowned at them. "I messed up, didn't I? Lucy wanted to wake you up."

"Yes, I did. Would you like me to recalculate our destination, Dutch?" Lucy asked.

Dutch opened her mouth to respond, then paused as D'avin reached out to put his hand on her shoulder. Her gaze flickered towards him. D'avin recognised the look in her eyes. She'd worn it every day that they'd been preparing for the collision with Aneela's army.

D'avin spoke up. "Look, I hate to be selfish right now, but I think Johnny's right. If we're already on our way to this biowork shop, then let's just see what we can find out."

Dutch ground her teeth for a moment, her jaw in a determined set. "Killing the Lady is my job."

"And we're all going to stand back and applaud while you do it," D'avin said. "In stereo, but we've been outgunned by her mindwipe shit before. So take a minute. Let Fancy gather intel."

Dutch smiled reluctantly. "Okay, fine. I hate it, but you're both right. One problem at a time. How long till we get there?"

"Lucy?" Johnny asked the AI.

"I predict reaching orbit in six hours and thirty-nine minutes," Lucy announced.

"Great. I think we should all get into bed." D'avin stopped talking, quickly rewinding the sentence back in his head. "I mean, Johnny should go to his bed. And put down the coffee. Dutch and I are going to go to a different bed."

"I think everyone got that," Dutch said, taking D'avin's hand. 

"Pregnant sex is great, by the way," D'avin told Johnny, as he let Dutch lead him out of the room. "In case you were wondering."

Johnny mimed covering his ears, his eyes thinning into lines of horrified disapproval. "Okay, never ever talk to me again."

*

The ship was quiet for the morning, but that only lasted until they made landfall. The planet was a rocky, grey and brown mass that looked halfway abandoned to the gale winds that rocked Lucy on her landing gear every few minutes. A sprawling town faded into the muted backdrop. Lucy landed on the outskirts.

"Absolutely not," Dutch said, as D'avin marched into the cargo bay wearing his black tac gear. "The last time I took you on a mission, you fell flat on your face."

"Johnny gave me a shot for that. I'll be fine."

"Did I hear my name?" Johnny asked. He stopped cold on the cargo bay threshold, eying D'avin and Dutch's irritated stances as they glared at each other. "Whoa, this looks like it's getting kinky."

Dutch's stare never wavered. "Johnny, tell your dumbass brother he absolutely cannot go on missions right now."

Johnny's mouth opened to speak, but D'avin beat him to it, voice raised and firm. "Johnny, tell your muleheaded best friend that she's not the boss of me. And that Zeph says I'm fine."

"Actually, I am the boss of you," Dutch said.

"When we're on Killjoys missions. Which this is definitely not," D'avin said.

"Yeah, we're just visiting some sinister doctors that at some point kidnapped you and implanted a fetus in you!" Dutch shouted, her voice rising, wavering with the flare of her temper. "For all we know, bringing you back here is playing right into their gross, unethical hands."

"Okay, that's a point. But that's what I have you two for. To watch my back."

"Fine," Dutch said. "But Johnny and I are going in first. You and Lucy are the backup squad. Which we're not going to need, by the way."

"Finesse work only," Johnny said, extending his hand to Dutch for a high five with a wink.

D'avin frowned at him in confusion. "I thought the plan was to start shaking people until answers fell out."

"I can't believe you've been working with us for two years and you've learned nothing," Johnny said, laughing.

*

The building looked like any other hospital, a gleaming white building that rose up out of the barren ground unexpectedly, throwing out an incongruous patch of green grass. A sign translated into a multitude of J languages scrolled its cheery welcome over the door. _the you that's been inside all along_ , said another just inside the entrance. Dutch had donned a long hooded coat over a simple black dress, and the camera hidden in the folds of her lapel broadcast the scene to D'avin with crystal clarity. He sat in place, 100 metres outside the facility, close enough for backup but far enough away that he wouldn't break Dutch and Johnny's cover.

Johnny took Dutch's elbow as they moved through the entrance, the picture of a solicitous husband. D'avin rolled his eyes.

"Laying it on a little thick there, John," he said under his breath, amused.

The woman on the outdoor bench next to him looked over at him curiously. D'avin coughed, trying to muster his face into an innocent mask.

"Welcome to Star Wellness," the woman behind the expansive reception desk said as they entered. She focused on Dutch first, and D'avin could make out brilliant purple irises in round, high eyes. Contact lenses, maybe or genetic hacking, some sort of untested biomod. D'avin recoiled at the thought. Behind her hallways lead to a bank of elevators and a row of identical doors, all painted a soothing hospital white. "How may I help you?" the receptionist asked.

"Hi." Johnny spoke first, and D'avin grinned as his brother launched into the complicated explanation he was probably inventing on the spot.

The receptionist's smile dimmed a barely perceptible fraction. "I'm sorry, but I'm afraid we only take referrals."

"If this is a question of money," Johnny began.

The receptionist was already shaking her head, slender eyebrows lowering into an displeased expression. "How exactly did you say you heard of us?"

Dutch began to speak in a voice that was carefully pitched to be confident, yet reassuring. D'avin was distracted from following the rest of her words by a door opening in the distance, around the side of the building. Four uniformed med emerged from the unmarked exit, heading for the hospital's front entrance in single file.

D'avin spoke into his comm. "Dutch, Johnny. I think she hit some kind of silent alarm. Get ready for some ass-kicking."

D'avin moved quickly, throwing off the weight of the loose coat he'd been wearing and folding it carefully over the back of the bench he'd been sitting on as he rose. With both hands he felt for the weight of the sidearms he'd left strapped beneath. The woman next to him watched with shocked eyes.

D'avin winked at her. "Nice day," he said, then made off towards the entrance at a hurried pace.

"I'm on my way," he advised to his comm. He arrived in the lobby to find Dutch, Johnny, and the Star guards staring each other down in tense silence.

"I'm afraid we'll have to ask you to leave," the receptionist said. Her eyes moved away from Dutch and Johnny, taking in D'avin's arrival and the sidearm he was gripping carefully in both hands. "Oh, my," she said. Her voice held only a small lilt of interest, notably absent of any sign of distress.

"Look," D'avin said, when it became clear that no one else was going to break the stalemate. "This doesn't need to get messy. We're just here for some information."

The receptionist knotted her brows, peering at him. "Very well. What information are you looking for, Mister Jaqobis?"

D'avin blinked, as both Dutch and Johnny's heads swiveled sharply towards him. "You know me?"

"Certainly. My name is Tilda. I was here at your original visit." Tilda bowed her head towards him, purple eyes blinking. "Everyone here was concerned when you didn't return for your monthly checkups."

Dutch's eyes had narrowed into suspicious slits, flitting to track everyone in the room.

D'avin shook his head, the movement aimed at Dutch, confused and defensive. "I've never fucking been here. I swear."

"This scenario is starting to seem familiar," Johnny muttered.

"Mister Jaqobis, I'm not sure I understand what's happened. But if you simply need details of your case, perhaps it would be best to step into an examination room? For some privacy?" Tilda looked at D'avin, seemingly disregarding the weapon he was holding now that she was back on solid footing.

Which made one of them, D'avin thought. He glanced at Dutch for instructions. After a moment she nodded at him.

Tilda watched him holster his gun. "I believe you won't be needed after all," she said sweetly to the security guards, who grunted before disappearing. "But Mister Jaqobis, perhaps you could surrender your weapon for the time being."

"Don't think so," D'avin said. "Not until someone tells me what the hells is going on."

*

"I think we know what's going on." Johnny slouched casually against the wall, interrupting the beam of a holodisplay. It was a spinning image of a pregnant women, hands cradling her swollen belly. "It was Khlyen, right? Fucking with D'av's head. Again."

Dutch looked at Tilda. "Perhaps we'll just start at the beginning. When was D'avin here?"

Tilda hesitated, looking in D'avin's direction. 

"I'm afraid I don't remember anything," D'avin explained. 

"He hits his head a lot," Johnny said, straight-faced. D'avin glared at him.

"Ah. Well, let's see." Tilda leaned over a console in the corner, speaking soft instructions, then leaned back as the display changed colour. D'avin watched in confusion as she studied the blank screen carefully.

The contacts weren't just cosmetic, then. Tilda straightened after a moment, nodding. "Mister Jaqobis arrived eighty-three days ago. He requested an gestational implantation procedure that had been stored and paid for previously."

"You didn't think that was strange?" Dutch asked, her words icy and sharp.

D'avin laid a hand by Dutch's elbow, lightly rubbing his finger over the sleeve of her cloak. "Never mind that right now. Who paid for it?"

Tilda spoke to the console again before reading the display. "A Mister Kin Rit, quite a few months ago."

Johnny swore out loud. "I knew it."

"Mister Jaqobis, the procedure is paid through the end of the gestational process. I can call a doctor in and we can give you a full checkup."

"No," Dutch said. She drew a note of imperious Qreshi princess into her voice. "We won't be doing that. You folks have done more than enough, and if you don't want to be sued from here to oblivion for performing a not entirely legal procedure on an obviously incapacitated human being, I'd suggest forgetting we were ever here."

Tilda stared at her, finally nodding. "Done."

"We're also going to need all of D'avin's records from the procedure," Johnny added. 

"That's proprietary," Tilda began. She quieted her protest at Dutch's pointed glare, forcing her mouth into a hollow, plastic smile. She bowed slightly in D'avin's direction. "I mean, that will be no problem, Mister Jaqobis."

*

"Sued?" D'avin whispered into her ear as as they left.

"It's the only sort of threat that means anything to a place like that." Dutch sighed. "I really would have liked to hit someone. Would've been refreshing."

"Same here," D'avin admitted.

*

"Khlyen," Dutch said under her breath. She stood in the galley looking lost, arms tense at her sides and her hands balled into fists.

"Yeah, that asshole is the gift that keeps on giving." D'avin pressed his tongue against his teeth, almost firmly enough to cut into the flesh. There was more he could say about Khlyen's machinations, but Dutch's drawn, hurt expression stalled his words.

Dutch shook her head. "I just don't understand why he would do this to you."

"To us," D'avin corrected. His hand fell on her shoulder, but she stepped away.

"That's what doesn't make sense. We know the Hullen were interested in your biology, on what you could do with the plasma. But why me? I'm not unique. I'm just a weak copy of Aneela."

"Stop it," D'avin said sharply, drawing a grateful smile to the corners of Dutch's mouth.

"I meant genetically speaking."

"Even then," D'avin chided. "But look, maybe it's not that complicated. Bloodlines, blood bonds. Blood inheritance, that's all Qreshi shit, isn't it?"

"You think Khlyen did this because he wanted a great-grandchild?" Dutch asked with scathing scepticism.

"Makes more sense than your theory. That this baby's somehow going to be the special, secret key to fighting the last of the Hullen. To fighting the Lady?"

Dutch glanced away, caught out. "I didn't say that."

"Didn't have to. I can see you thinking it."

"The last time that Khlyen put information in your head--" Dutch began. D'avin gently interrupted her. He'd shifted place, moving to stand at her back and speaking now into the curved shell of her ear.

"It's probably just a baby, Dutch. Big head. Lots of flailing and crying."

"And that's something that you want to keep around, is it?" Dutch asked him.

All the possible answers to that stuck in D'avin's throat. Dutch bowed her head in the barest of acquiescing gestures. D'avin bent forward, pressing a kiss to the back of her neck. "Didn't say that. I am just saying that you might want to calm down before it gets here."

"I'm calm." Dutch stood still, letting D'avin's fingers run along the tightly corded muscle of her neck and shoulders.

"I can tell," D'avin said. Dutch released a tense chuckle, shuddering slightly against him.

Johnny's voice cut suddenly between them, broadcasting over the intercom. "Message from Turin, guys. Meet me on the bridge."

*

The news from Turin's headquarters in the Quad was mixed. The presence of the Lady had been confirmed, but the only member of Fancy's team to make contact had disappeared, probably melting into the background cast of the strange play that everyone on the planet seemed to be acting out. There was no one else on the team to say what she had looked like, or whose form she might be inhabiting.

"We could nuke the whole town from orbit and call it a day, but I know Jaqobis here would probably get all dramatic over something like that." Turin scowled.

"He wouldn't really do that," D'avin said to the recorded holo message. Dutch and Johnny both shrugged.

"Good news is, Zephyr thinks she's figured out how to use this memory guard tech. Which is good, because I was not looking forward to having my brain scrambled like a egg. Though in some other cases, that might be an improvement."

There was a soft noise, as an unidentifiable, unintelligible voice began speaking just out of range of the image. Turin glared in its direction, then continued talking. "Like I said. A big improvement. Fancy's holding his position. Right now we've got the element of surprise, so haul ass. We'll meet him there."

The message clicked out.

"Well." D'avin sighed. He was overwhelmingly tired, suddenly, as if his entire body was weighted. Maybe that was a baby thing. "Guess we're headed to the Alta system."

Johnny nodded. "Lucy and I will plot the fastest way there."

"Don't say it," D'avin said, interrupting Dutch as she began to speak.

"It's not going to be safe," she said.

"Nowhere's safe," D'avin said. "Not while she's out there. And I'm getting a little tired of you constantly threatening to leave me behind, because frankly, pregnant or not? You probably can't do this shit without me."

"Or me," Johnny said, his face buried in the starmaps displayed over Lucy's dashboard.

"All right, fine. I'd be lost without both of you," Dutch said, rolling her eyes fondly as she relented. Her gaze dipped to D'avin belly. "All three of you, I suppose."

"Don't forget me," Lucy cut in.

"All four of you," Dutch agreed.

*

The notes Johnny had taken from Star Wellness had been full of details, genetic predictions, the length of time it had taken to complete the procedure (three hours, twelve minutes to cut D'avin open and sew him up again), but nothing there to answer the real burning question of what Khlyen had been thinking. With Khlyen gone, maybe they would never know.

Johnny relayed this summary the next morning. D'avin sat on one of his lab tables, Johnny depressing a shot of Zeph's vitamin cocktail into his arm.

"Ow," D'avin said, rubbing the sore spot on his bicep where the needle had left a mark. "You need to work on your technique."

"I usually work with computers," Johnny reminded him. "They complain a lot less." He clapped D'avin on the shoulder, barely missing the needle site and grinning when D'avin glared at him.

*

They were still almost two days out from their destination. D'avin's energy had lifted. He wasn't sure if it was Zeph's prescription, or the electric charge from the anticipation of the fight that they were barreling towards. He needed to burn off some of the current buzzing the thoughts into a jumble, he thought, before they made landfall.

"I'm not sparring with a pregnant person," Dutch said, wrinkling her nose at him. She'd come down to the cargo bay when invited, but now she was grimacing, her arms crossed stubbornly over her chest.

D'avin bounced a little on bare feet on the patch of floor he'd cleared for the sport. "Just do what you normally do, and go easy on me."  
   
"I do not."

D'avin smiled at her. He cuffed her playfully around the neck. She loosened her stance just in time to spring backwards in a dodge, her mouth curving as she laughed at him. "Yeah, you do."

"Yeah, I do," Dutch admitted after a moment.

"See? No one's going to get hurt. We didn't get to hit anyone back in Mad Science Creepersville. This will be a good outlet."

Dutch stepped towards him. "An outlet for me, or for you?"

D'avin's stomach tightened in a silent reminder as he considered the question. "I got mindfucked."

"Yeah, you did."

"I got experimented on. And now I'm growing a whole other person, which is fucking uncomfortable, by the way." 

Dutch nodded. She was watching him. Waiting. Her bright eyes were a silent challenge. "What else?"

"And I'd really like Khlyen to just get back here so I can punch him in the face, because fuck him."

"Fuck Khlyen," Dutch agreed, voice faint but firm. 

D'avin struck out first. It was a mistake in tactics, one he made almost every time they sparred together. Dutch's size and skills meant that she dodged the contact easily, then used her position low on the ground to kick her legs against his and sweep him off balance. D'avin recovered, using his size to pull her into close range. Dutch raised her eyebrows at the change in strategy, biting down on a smile. It was the work of a few minutes for her to extricate herself, wriggling her way out from under him with violent twists of her hips and wrists. Their second, third, fourth bouts ended the same. When she'd pinned him for the fifth time, her weight resting easily and without menace on his chest and throat, she looked down at him.

"Another round?" she asked.

D'avin looked up at her, dazed and breathing heavily. "Is this what going easy on me looks like?"

"Hmmn." Dutch kissed his throat, then buried her face in the crook of his neck. Her back arched into a tall curve as she leant into him. "Come to bed and find out."

She pulled him to his feet, fingers gripping his hand tightly.

*

Johnny was in the cockpit, in the middle of a low conversation with Gideon. Slouched down in the pilot's seat, he looked up as D'avin appeared next to him.

"How close are we to Alta?" D'avin asked.

Johnny shrugged. "ETA is about the same as the last time you asked me, D'av. We're still twenty-four hours out.

"Got it," D'avin said. He remained in place, hovering awkwardly by Johnny's chair.

Johnny made a swatting motion with his hands. "Ugh, why are you so tall? Stop looming."

"I'm not."

"And stop fretting. It can't be good for the baby."

D'avin couldn't help smiling at how easily Johnny had started to worry over the baby the way he did the rest of the ship. "Can't be worse than flying towards our certain doom," he pointed out.

"Sure, but this is like our billionth go-round with inevitable death, right? Gets a little old."

Dutch slipped into the conversation with her usual stealth, coming to stand between Johnny and D'avin with her hand resting lightly on D'avin's back. "What are you two going on about?"

"Dying?" Johnny said cheerfully. "Well. Living."

"Ah." Dutch's gaze shifted from her team's faces to the clear starfield they were surfing through. One far-off prick of light caught D'avin's attention, a luminous dot that faded and swelled. The birth of a star. D'avin stomach gurgled, as if in reminder that they were all most definitely not dead yet. "That's the plan."


End file.
